The Trip
March 19, 2015
March 19, 2015

The Brothers

How small and vulnerable they are, as they sleep.
Innocent warm and cosy between their sheets
I believe dreaming of a farm with cows and sheep.
Such tiny tots, yet when awake a whirlwind hits the house.
Excitement swirls in every room, toys picked and discarded
Commands and demands at every quarter.
Then at meal times, an eery silence,
When tasting a morsel new, the baby ‘s face screws up;
And the toddler insists on feeding himself, holding his special cup.
The toddler covers the babe’s toes, and kisses his head when he’s low.
He says he knows, what the baby wants, when he hears him fretting,
Like an international interpreter, with experience of deciphering.
Every detail the baby takes in, watching his brother like a hawk;
I’m sure the toddler wonders, when the baby will play with him, walk and talk.